I'm up late tonight . . . well, later than usual. My sleep schedule has gotten off some lately with me still looking for and not finding a job. I'm getting lots of crafting done, but not much money made to help with the huge stack of bills which never cease to come. Anyway, I'm up late tonight because my body couldn't take it anymore and it finally gave in for a good cry. It'd been building up for a couple weeks now. With my hormones all wacky from birth-control pills again, and my feeling sort of useless without having a job, and a few other things, plus my allergy-induced asthma attack earlier tonight, the tears just wouldn't stay away.
So, I'm sitting here, feeling the bleary-eyed-ness that comes with crying (why does moisture dry your eyes?) and drinking a mug of peppermint tea until I can settle down enough to go back to bed and try to get some rest. And you get to benefit from it by having this post.
We went to my parents' home over the weekend, as I've mentioned before, and while we were there, some friends of my family also came to visit (they try to come each year that weekend for the singing at the congregation my Dad preaches at). One of those friends is a lady in her early 70s who is now taking care of her great-granddaughter (full-custody) because her granddaughter got knocked up by who knows who and then didn't feel like taking care of the child when she was born. She's ten months old and a doll. Everyone loved on her and played with her and gave her lots of attention over the weekend. I ended up holding her through services Sunday morning and afterwards paid the consequences for that -- several came up asking if it was my baby . . . and telling me I looked very natural. Normal people would probably take that as a compliment. For me, it was one more prick to my already broken heart over the subject. And I never realized how much it would hurt to see my parents holding and playing with a baby. I know they want grandchildren so badly and they've been SO good about not pushing us or asking too many questions . . . or mentioning out loud how much they wish we didn't have fertility problems so they could be grandparents like their brothers and sisters are. I know there's no answer to this, but why is it fair that an eighteen year old girl who doesn't even know who she slept with and considers marijuana an "herb," can get pregnant and have a beautiful, perfect little girl when I can't even have a regular period?
And something else hit me lately, too. I've overheard my Dad mention in passing once or twice now that my sister is getting a bit antsy to settle down so they can maybe start thinking of having kids, too. I haven't heard this from her, but it makes sense. They've been married two and a half years now. And they don't know if they'll have issues, too, or not. I'm wondering, though, if part of what has held her back this long (not all, mind you, just part) is that she doesn't want me to be mad at her for having kids first. And as much as I long to be the first to give my parents a grandchild, can I really deny my siblings the right to have kids now that they're both married? Am I really that selfish?
It all just compounded tonight into my tears. So, now to finish my tea, and maybe read some more cheerful blogs by my friends who have kids, and go to bed . . . way too late at night.
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